


A Question of Time

by seraphyde



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bossy Sam, Coming Untouched, M/M, Men of Letters Bunker, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Size Kink, Top Dean Winchester/Bottom Sam Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-28
Updated: 2016-10-28
Packaged: 2018-08-27 13:50:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8404096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seraphyde/pseuds/seraphyde
Summary: Sometimes the boys have the luxury of taking their time. Sam has a thing for big dicks.





	

The view before you is dizzying - your brother stands in front of you, completely nude and in easy touching distance. The low lighting of your room creates an illusionary atmosphere around you, making Dean appear god-like in all his highlights and shadows, every curve of his muscles traceable under the circumstances. 

You reach towards him, placing your hand carefully on Dean's hip, hazel eyes meeting his in a silent question; Is this one of those times..? After receiving the barest of nods, you hastily sink to your knees from your bed, meeting his half-erect cock head-on. Your both hands travel towards his groin - one gripping his length while the other caresses his balls.

It's been too long since you last had the chance to really take your time, to really worship what you hold in your hands now. Your hand starts pumping Dean to hardness and you know it won't take long at all. He's always ready for you, always willing to give you what you need. You can never resist the scent of his arousal, you've got to get closer to the source and inhale as deeply as you dare. A breathy moan may escape your lips, but he won't call you on it - he doesn't want to break the spell either.

He's fully hard now. You feel his eyes on you as you give him the first tentative lick, drawing a sigh out of him. You're already dying to have him enter you, fill you up and pound you like you were nothing but a bitch in heat, but this is all about Dean. You love his cock more than you could ever say, so you settle on showing him exactly how much you want it.

It's a mysterious thing, you think. How something so hard can be so soft to touch at the same time? The skin feels like silk in your mouth and you let your moaning vibrate your throat for added effect. Dean sinks his hands in your hair, pulling lightly and encouraging your movements. You love giving him head almost as much as you enjoy being fucked into the mattress. The sounds he makes, the sweet nothings, it's all the encouragement you need in your life.

You fondle his balls while bobbing your head, knowing just the right spots to caress, the right amount of pressure to apply. You've been doing this together for so long that there's no uncharted territory left to explore. He knows your body just as well - and he knows when to back off and let you do your thing. He knows you sometimes need to marvel at his size and shape, really appreciate the priviledges that have befallen you. Sometimes he teases you, calling you a size queen, but it gets him nowhere. You're not one to deny the truth.

"Sammy," he breaks the silence, "let me fuck you."

You pause your ministrations and look up to him. He's close already, you can tell by his eyes alone. You could go on for hours - licking him, touching him, breathing him in, sucking his balls, tracing the veins of his thick cock... But you know when to back off, too. Dean needs to be enveloped in your heat, just like you need to be stuffed one way or the other. "Please," you respond.

It doesn't take long to rid your clothing, to leave a careless pile on the floor. Your knees ache from putting your weight on them for too long, but you refuse to let Dean notice. Showing any signs of pain to your big brother is a bad idea - he can go from horny to worried in two seconds, and you definitely don't want to lose your chance tonight. 

He guides you to lay on your stomach, putting a pillow under your hips, but not before giving your hard shaft a fleeting caress. You cross your arms below your face, giving Dean a small smile from behind your shoulder. The soft yellow hues of your nightside lamp do justice to his figure. He really could've been a model or an actor, had your lives been different. 

Your thoughts are interrupted by the sensation of a lubed finger circling your entrance. Another hand is situated on your lower back, thumb smoothing the skin above your spine. A kiss is felt on your left buttock as the finger coaxes its way in. Here we go. You force your muscles to relax despite the invasion, impatiently inviting Dean to open you up fast. You are generally a patient man, but once you feel something nudging at your rim, you lose all of that virtue. You need to have all you can get and you need it now.

"Dean, please hurry."

"I don't want to hurt you, Sammy."

He adds another finger into the mix, evoking a groan out of you. It's not so much pain as it is pleasure, but it's not enough of pleasure either. You meet his fingers in the rhythm Dean has established, hugging his fingers with your well-trained muscles, intentionally driving him crazy.

"Fuck, baby, you gotta stop that," he curses breathlessly from behind you. "You can't take me yet, you know that."

"Imagine how tight I'll be, Dee. Imagine me doing that to your cock," you whisper, giving his fingers another squeeze as a reminder. He groans in response and withdraws his fingers. You see him pumping his cock and grabbing the lube with his other hand.

You always liked being underprepared. The painful stretch, the feeling of being so stuffed, so thoroughly impaled that you forget who you are and lose all your inhibitions. Sometimes, in the dead of the night, you feel as though the only thing you really need is your brother's huge cock brutalizing you. 

The said cock is now nudging at your entrance, asking for permission. "You sure about this?", Dean asks. 

"Yes, Dean, c'mon," you breathe out, rising up on your elbows and leaning to his dick. 

"For the record, this is a bad idea and I think you're crazy." 

With that, Dean begins his slow invasion. Your breath hitches and you fight the clamping reflex of your muscles. It hurts, it truly does. You're overjoyed with the feeling, trying to impale yourself further, but Dean's tight grip on your hips won't allow it. His movement is so slow and torturous that you feel like screaming.

Eventually, he bottoms out and you finally feel complete. He leans against your back, one hand supporting his weight on your left and the other caressing your stomach. "So tight, baby, so good for me," he pants against your shoulder in rapture. You're beyond words at this moment and only a high whine manages to come out.

Several moments pass in stillness as you breathe in unison. His hand draws patterns on your chest now, momentarily stopping to tweak your nipples. You can't help but twitch under his attentions, so sensitive and so full, moaning without meaning to. Your whole body is left under the care of your big brother and you want him to set the pace. 

Only you can't, you never can. Even with your best intentions, you always end up begging for more, faster, harder, coaxing Dean to reach his physical limitations, trying to get him to break you and never succeeding. He cares for your well-being too much. You squeeze your muscles on his cock, just as you promised. "C'mon Dee, fuck me already."

He starts a slow and hesistant rhythm that you meet in encouragement, each push a little faster than his, trying to speed things up. Dean lifts himself from your back, hands flying to grab your hips and lifting you to your knees, gaining him a better access to your greedy hole. You love it when he manhandles you, it makes you feel like you're a lanky fifteen-year-old again, pining for your big brother while fingering yourself in a motel bathroom in the middle of the night. 

"I want you to fucking ruin me, Dean," you surprise yourself with your clarity. The words apparently have an effect, as Dean hastens his rhythm with a shaky sigh and a curse. He hits his thrusts right on your sweet spot, reducing you to a puddle of goo in front of him. Your elbows give in, your chest hits the mattress and Dean lets out a chuckle, "Look so pretty for me, ass in the air, moaning like a bitch."

It's not mockery, it's admiration. And again, it's the truth and you don't have it in you to deny it. Your moans leave you without asking permission, but without any attempts at stopping them either. Dean has the right to know how great he makes you feel when his big cock rearranges your insides to make way for its violent invasion. "Harder," you croak.

As always, your wish is granted. Dean makes sure to keep hitting your prostate on each thrust, knowing how you love to come on his cock alone. It won't be long until you do, if the flying stars at the edge of your vision are anything to go by. Wet slaps of his balls against your taint, Dean's laboured pants and your pitiful moans are the only sounds that bounce off the bunker's walls right now. You could be right here in this moment forever, but biological programming has you reaching towards an orgasm as surely as the sun rises up every morning.

"Fuck, Dee, I'm gonna..", you warn. Dean tightens his grip on you and grinds down on your prostate with impressive accuracy. "Come on big brother's cock, baby boy." That's all it takes.

Your body tightens like a bow string and you let out an involuntary yelp, shooting your load on the pillow below you and staining your stomach with long ropes of cum. Your back arches, your muscles convulse on his cock and the only thing keeping your ass in place is Dean's iron grip. 

"So beautiful, Sammy, so fucking good," you register the words, but in your hazy state they feel as if they're coming from afar. He rides you through your orgasm and your dick is pulsing out its last pearls as he fills you up with his own. "God, Sammy!", he damn near shouts as he pushes in the last time, his hips quivering against your ass.

The moment is so serene. His hands release your hips, you're both panting and sweaty as hell. Dean pulls out of you slowly, careful not to hurt you. It would be a funny contrast to the pounding you just received if you had half the mind to think right now. He's always so gentle after the deed is done - he knows exactly how to take care of you. 

You roll on your back, inviting your brother in with open arms and a sated grin. He collapses next to you, placing his head on your shoulder and an arm around your stomach. You embrace him right back, wrapping his torso like an octopus. If Dean Winchester likes to cuddle, nobody but his little brother needs to know.


End file.
